


if you're gonna be moderate, you haven't started

by 6LilBussy9



Series: Authorized Personnel Only (Universal Studios AU) [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Universal Studios, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Co-workers, ET Adventure, Fluff, Gay Minho, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Changlix, Implied/Referenced Chanlix, M/M, Pet Names, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Top Han Jisung | Han, Universal employees Minsung decide to dick around the ET ride after hours and get stuck up there, bicurious Jisung, hire Han Jisung as a DJ for your quinceañera, homoerotic descriptions of Jisung, man-eating alien conspiracies, mentioned murder of an Orlando citizen, minho is whipped, obnoxious jisung, soundcloud rapper jisung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6LilBussy9/pseuds/6LilBussy9
Summary: With a nod, he came back to reality and the sweaty, scorching heat of Orlando, Florida, to announce, “I’ve decided.”Changbin was making faces at his milkshake. “Decided what?”“I decided in the morning, actually,” Minho amended. “But now I’m sure. I’m going to fuck him, and we’re going to date. It’s going to be cute.”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Authorized Personnel Only (Universal Studios AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965907
Comments: 20
Kudos: 155





	if you're gonna be moderate, you haven't started

Jisung was being obnoxious -- “Ashjkfdhs,” he managed to say out loud, “you’re not joking?”

Lips at the edge of a large lidless plastic cup with “Islands of Adventure” printed in red over a compass decal, Changbin replied, “Well, it’s what Felix told me.”

“But Felix is kinda stupid,” Minho said, though not insultingly. “He thought I was a vampire.”

“That’s ‘cause you said you were a vampire.” Changbin stared at the creamy vanilla of his milkshake. Then, he reached over the faux wood table, pulling Jisung’s paper straw out of his neon, radioactive-looking slushy that allegedly had alcohol in it, then putting it into his shake and swirling the undoubtedly chunky contents that hadn’t been processed right. Jisung made no effort to stop him, coal eyes glazed over as the irises flickered from side to side like some sort of mathematical genius solving a complicated equation. Jisung having coherent thoughts for once. Minho decided he, like Felix, was stupid too, but only a little. And that was okay, that was fine, Jisung was allowed to be. 

“He didn’t have to believe me,” Minho said with a long breath. “Maybe he shouldn’t be so gullible.”

“He’s too nice,” Changbin admitted. “But he seemed sure about this.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Jisung’s hands went to his beanie, gripping it at the sides. Peach lips were O-shaped; Minho stared at them intensely. “We need to call someone. What if someone else gets hurt?”

“Call who?” Minho tapped longer, uncut nails against the base of the fan he was waving lazily inches from his cheek. “The police?”

“No, not them,” Jisung said, shifting as he brought his hands back down to sit on top of as he rocked back and forth restlessly. “But, like, does the news know about this?”

“Good idea,” Changbin said, pulling out the straw he’d stolen and wiping it down with a biodegradable brown napkin. “I’ll call them, and you can go ahead and let them know there’s a man-eating alien on the loose.”

Now, Jisung’s lips were in a pout -- the type that puffed his cheeks so that his face was rounder than it normally was. “Okay, but then we’ll be heroes after half the city gets eaten.”

“And if there’s no alien and no eating and it’s all just a dumb story someone told Felix?” Changbin suggested before hiding a sly smile behind the milkshake he went back to slurping.

“Man,” said Jisung, “but what if there  _ is _ ?”

Minho shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a breeze that instead of bringing a welcoming gust of cool air, dragged behind it sticky heat that lapped at his skin. He flicked his wrist quicker, fanning himself but feeling sweat build at his forehead anyway. Even under the shade of the dusty jade umbrellas over their table right outside The Burger Digs, with its air-conditioned interior and open doors, and the relatively less-crowded Jurassic Park section of the park providing  _ some _ safety from the usual heat, Minho felt like he was boiling in a pot. He figured that if there was genuinely an alien loose responsible for the murder of an Orlando citizen, it’d get a nice steamed meal if it ate Minho. Crispy, at least.

“Felix said that the alien is a shape-shifter,” Changbin said, and Jisung squeezed his ugly, fluorescent drink a little too tightly, so that cheap plastic scrunched. “You know, it could be any of us.” Jisung’s face was tinting just a tad paler. “Just imagine, I trick you into spending some time alone with me and then my head splits open and I turn into a big alien with ten eyes and eight legs-”

“Eight?!”

“Eight. And then I open my mouth and I have, uh, fifteen rows of teeth.”

“Like a shark.”

“Exactly. And then I eat you and you die.”

Jisung blinked then scrunched his face. “Okay, but you’re not the alien right?”

“I think I’m the alien,” Minho blurted. Jisung and Changbin turned to him, and of course, Jisung seemed to consider it, before opening his mouth, closing it, then nodding.

“Ok,” he just about squeaked, then stood up and rolled his shoulders. “Ok. Ok. I’m going to the restroom.” He looked at the others. “You two can stay here. Nice and still. No eating anyone.”

Minho stifled a smile by biting on his lip, before he promised, “We’ll try.”

Changbin waved teasingly as Jisung waddled off. A few seconds’ pause filled the air with the chatter of park visitors. “I think his hat is out of dress code.”

Minho’s 3/4ths finished hamburger sat lonesomely on the table, beside Changbin and Jisung’s plates holding no more than crumbs and small pools of grease. He poked the patty, but the composition of it felt crumbly and wet -- fake. It took a moment for him to organize the loose thoughts scattered over the tile floor of his brain and file them into the right cabinets, but eventually, he succeeded. With a nod, he came back to reality and the sweaty, scorching heat of Orlando, Florida, to announce, “I’ve decided.”

Changbin was making faces at his milkshake. “Decided what?”

“I decided in the morning, actually,” Minho amended. “But now I’m sure. I’m going to fuck him, and we’re going to date. It’s going to be cute.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. It’ll be so cute everyone will be jealous.”

“Not that.” Changbin, despite his pressing, was smiling. “I mean about dating him.”

Minho felt offended, oddly. “You don’t think we’d look nice together? Answer quickly.”

Laughing -- “It’s not about that either. Look, if it makes you feel better -- he’s definitely interested in you. He looks at your ass whenever you bend over.”

“Success.”

“But he’s never been with a guy before. He doesn’t know how any of it works.”

Minho swallowed. “He told me he’s bicurious.”

“Emphasis on the curious. He asked me how two guys ‘do it’.” Changbin made quotations with his fingers, at either side of his cheeky face. 

“Did… you tell him?”

“I told him that when two men love each other very much, one of their dicks opens up and wraps around the other guy’s.”

Blink. “Changbin.”

“Mm?” Practically giggling.

“Why the fuck would you say that?”

The giggle erupted into laughter. “You’re so cute.” He added quickly, most likely seeing Minho’s deadset, furious expression, “I mean, you’re so… in love. Like, actually in love.”

Minho wasn’t sure what to name the emotion currently grazing its teeth along his aorta, threatening to bite down and make it so the innards of his heart spilled out. He supposed it could be that -- love, but that was too much. He’d only known Jisung for two and a half months, and Jisung himself was not exactly a charmer. He was loud, obnoxiously so, and he puckered his peachy lips at anyone who got too close, and he took bathroom selfies beside urinals he thought were funny, and he bragged about his soundcloud rap career. The only non-Universal-Studio money he made came from Youtube ad revenue on his freestyle raps, which was meager income, and his DJ-ing at birthday parties. But Minho couldn’t get him out of his mind. 

He was waking up every morning cold these days, often with fingers grasping at the air, maybe searching for the dark strands of messy hair that belonged to his co-worker. He’d form fists around his pillow instead, latch onto it with all his limbs. He’d shut his eyes and imagine it was the soft warmth of his friend, but the pillow sheet was nothing like Jisung. It didn’t smell like him, didn’t even have the same toothy smiles.

“No,” Minho said. “I just think his dick is big. Besides, what do you know about being in love? Maybe I should call Felix, and you could tell him a thing or two.”

Instantly, Changbin’s expression fell. “You didn’t have to bring that up.” A sigh skittered out of his mouth. “Chan and him are going on a date tonight.”

“The way I didn’t ask.”

Changbin ignored that. “I would be fine with it if Chan would just stop fucking posting about it.”

“Well, if I had a cute boyfriend, I’d post him too.” Minho shrugged at Changbin’s look. “It’s the truth. Get over Felix. You’re gonna ruin your friendship if you keep harboring old feelings.”

“It’s all my fault,” Changbin muttered. “I didn’t know what I had.”

Minho didn’t particularly feel like being someone’s therapist, but he wasn’t as cold-blooded as he liked to act. He reached over the table, patted the top of Chnagbin’s head with the fan, and said, “There, there.” Then, he scratched under Changbin’s chin the way he would a cat. It didn’t do much, obviously, but Changbin seemed to appreciate it. With some taps of platformed black boots over asphalt pretending to be gray stone and rock, Jisung appeared at their sides, looking reborn with the blazing sun shining behind him.

Minho took in the sight, and when Jisung grinned, he couldn’t help himself. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jisung said.

“We’re going on a date.” Minho looked away. “Tonight, after we shut down the ride. We’re going to dinner. As boyfriends.”

Jisung jumped at the same time Changbin spluttered and covered his face to stifle laughter.

“Like-” Jisung took half a step back. “We’re going on a date? Romantic?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, Jisung began to nod, and then more excitedly. “Sure.”

Changbin worked at the Jurassic Park River Adventure ride, so after some goodbyes, the two left him there. The long walk back to E.T. Adventure after that was uneventful, though Jisung offered to hold Minho’s hand. Minho let him, and it probably would have been a bigger moment if Jisung didn’t hold just about anyone’s hand. Still, the concept of a romantic relationship attached to it was new, and Minho let it sink into his cerebrum, make a meal out of his last remaining brain cells. He played with Jisung’s fingers, rolling his thumb over the joints and staring at the lines of skin wrinkles there, and it popped into his head that if there  _ was _ an alien on the loose, he might look a lot like Jisung. Not because Jisung looked like E.T., obviously, but occasionally Minho accidentally caught specs of light, stars, dusted over the other’s endless pupils and irises. He wondered that if he filtered through Jisung’s hair enough, he'd find a zipper in his scalp that he’d be able to pull down to see a tiny bobble-head of an extraterrestrial controlling the machine that was Han Jisung.

They both worked in the interior queue -- that’s how they’d met -- where they helped park guests board the rows of bikes making up one large unit that moves together through the slow ride filled with animatronics, props, fake trees, and the distinctive smell of pine. These days, it was only about two dozen guests per hour that they had to help; the ride is old, the oldest in the park, and it’s aged terribly. Kids could get more sense of wonder watching any Youtube video than watching a creaky E.T. robot jostle around. There was something fascinating about how widely it was, not hated, but ignored, or at least that was the excuse Minho gave himself.

There were few things in the world that he was fixated by: Soonie, Doongie, Dori, Jisung, and the Orlando Universal Studios E.T. Adventure ride. 

Jisung was rapping. He had his phone out, playing a loop beat on Garageband, with his back against one of the dark green railings beside where the ride units kept arriving, landing, then taking off with often no passengers. Minho wasn’t the biggest fan of anything rap-adjacent, but he knew Jisung was good, or at least hoped he was, and that he enjoyed himself. He moved his hands to the rhythm of his own words, moved his entire body to the syllables spitting quickly from his mouth, and so, Minho enjoyed it. Not that he’d let him know that; it would boost his pride too much.

When closing time came — 6 pm, more or less — Minho assured their co-workers that the two would shut down the ride themselves. He only said it so they’d hurry up and leave without interrupting Jisung, who was currently on a particularly good roll of rhymes. Apparently not wanting to deal with either of them, everyone raised their shoulders, dropped them, left. Minho waited patiently for Jisung to finish his freestyle, and leaned against the railings as well, over a bright spot that indicated where passengers were meant to stand. Jisung eventually clapped his hands, finished, dabbed, then said, “Man, I’m so fucking good, did you get all of it?”

A beat. “Hm?”

“Did you record it all?”

“I was supposed to be doing that?” Jisung stuttered backwards, collapsed into the railings, and slid down slowly with a quiet but nonetheless pained wail. Minho stared. When his (boy)friend reached the floor, in a tangle of his own limbs, he simply said, “Are you done? We can leave now.”

“You weren’t recording me.”

“You can rap it again.”

“It was a freestyle.”

“Next one will be better.” Minho crouched then tugged off Jisung’s beanie to flop to the floor. He reached out to rake his fingers through Jisung’s hair. It was a bit greasy, but not too much, and Jisung leaned into his palm. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The ride was stopped, but the ambient lights were still flashing overhead, so that every second or so, Jisung’s face was flashed with streams of yellow that added this golden tinge to his features that Minho wished he could take a mental photo of. He considered kissing him, but it probably wasn’t the right moment. But he wanted to. Jisung’s mouth was like a Minho magnet. But the interior queue of the Universal Studios E.T. Ride wasn’t romantic. But Minho really  _ really _ wanted to. He felt like laughing. He did. Pulling his hand back away from Jisung’s head, he was giggling enough to make his shoulders shake.

He was about to admit that he wanted to kiss him, but Jisung ruined the moment. “Hey, Minho.”

“Mm? Do you want to go?”

“We shouldn’t have stayed so long. What if— the alien-”

“My god.”

“Yeah, like, what if it comes out right now and eats us? I have a gig tomorrow, uh- It’s a girl’s 15th birthday, and I promised her dad I’d be good- what if I don’t show up? Cause I’m dead? Imagine how heartbroken the family’ll be-“

“There’s no man-eating alien loose in Orlando.”

“But Changbin and Felix said-”

“They’re dumb.” Minho stood up with a grunt and stretched with his arms before him, making a low, rumbling noise. Nearly a purr. “Come on, get up. We need to go on our date.”

Jisung blinked his wide eyes up at him. “But what if you’re the alien?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want to get eaten!”

Minho took Jisung’s arm and did his best to pull him up, but Jisung was screaming. “I’m not going to eat you.”

Jisung’s face was scrunched in fear, and he had his face turned away, eyes screwed shut. One of them opened. “Uh.” Jisung opened his other eye. “If you  _ were _ the alien, though, you would eat me, right?”

“What.”

“I look juicy and tasty, right?”

Minho swallowed thick, allowing his eyes to make their way up Jisung then back down. He pat him lightly on the chest. “How about we go, okay?”

Jisung pursed lips Minho took a long look at. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Do you wanna get on the ride?” Jisung’s expression was earnest, honestly questioning. It stressed Minho out, and that must have shown on his face, because then Jisung laughed, loudly. He was always loud. “What, you don’t want to go on the ride with me?”

“We could get in trouble. Also, it’s not good.”

“I’ve only gotten on it a couple times,” Jisung said, entirely unprompted because Minho definitely didn’t ask. “But I’ve never gotten the front row. With E.T.”

Minho desperately wanted to say no, but Jisung’s stupid smile reached his eyes and made him so hideously cute that Minho’s stomach was twisting. Entirely nauseated by feelings of deep affection, Minho said, “Okay. Just once though. Obviously.”

It was only a few buttons to get the ride moving again. Minho swiped Jisung’s forgotten beanie off the ground, pulled it over the shorter one’s head, then patted it in place. Jisung’s smile was so gross; it was nice, but it was making Minho feel gross. Maybe a boyfriend was a bad idea. As he pulled down the bar on his bike-seat, he noticed the way Jisung excitedly kicked his legs, almost childishly, beside him. He was staring at the basket attached to the front of his bike, covered with white sheets, hiding an animatronic E.T. 

It was with that that Minho’s chest genuinely started to ache. He realized this boyfriend-situation was much worse than previously thought: it was no longer just sickness, this was a terminal illness. It was all very, very bad.

Jisung was so annoying. When the ride began, lifting them up into the horrifically pine-infused fake forestry, he raised his arms and let out a, “Woooo!” The music, mystical and blaring, kickstarted and so did all the voice acting involved with the story. The sound effects were annoying too; Jisung’s imitation of the police sirens was even worse. 

For some reason, Jisung tried small talk while they were “flying” over a tiny recreation of New York. “Hey, so we’re boyfriends, right?”

“After this? We’ll see.”

Jisung continued, “I’ve never been with a guy.” He shifted. “I was always really close to my friends, but I dunno… There’s a lot I like to think back on, and I realize that it was kinda gay of me. Like I always tried to kiss Hyunjin, and that’s kinda super gay? Why didn’t anyone let me know?”

“I dunno. I don’t know Hyunjin.”

“Well he’s my friend. Cute. Not as cute as you, but he’s cute.” He groaned. “See? Men are so cute, and I just told myself it was a platonic thing- Well, I didn’t tell myself anything. I just- I just didn’t think about it. Like it was normal to all have all these feelings.”

Minho stared at their dangling feet, listening to the squeals of the chain and gears moving the ride overhead. “Well. I’m happy you’re figuring it out.” He realized his voice sounded a little flat, so he added more: “I’m here for you. Even if you’re still figuring yourself out. I’m patient.” For his own safety, he refrained from looking at Jisung’s face, but the smile was in his voice.

“Thanks, baby.”

Minho gripped the handles on his seat and didn’t reply. 

They were passing through the E.T.’s planet portion of the ride, miniature E.T. robots climbing up rows of vines to their left, when there was a creak above. Minho’s head shot up, but nothing looked out of order; but their bikes hit an abrupt stop, anyway, as if they’d run into an invisible wall. Everything was still going — the lights, the music, the absolutely terrible high-pitched singing of the baby alien robots beside them. Jisung was shouting, swishing his head around in all directions.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Fuck. Fuck. We’re trapped.” He tried to shake the bars over his lap but they were stuck in place. “Oh my god, we’re fucking trapped.”

Minho took a deep breath. “Calm down. Don’t scream, no, calm down. We can slip out. Look, they're not the tight.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Shh.” Minho reached over, gripped Jisung’s hand, and squeezed it. That cut Jisung off quick. “We’re like two feet off the floor. We can hop off.”

“But they just cleaned the floor, didn’t they?”

“We can clean it again.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Minho sighed, then felt both of Jisung’s hands wrap around his own. He looked at how his hand fit snugly between his  _ boyfriend _ ’s. He was struggling to consider Jisung that still; he probably always would. 

“I think Jeongin is still here. He’ll probably find us.” Minho didn’t reply, wondering if he should voice his own confusion about his emotions. “At least you’re with me. I’m so handsome and not scared of anything — we’ll be fine.”

“You were terrified of getting eaten by me earlier.”

“Not eaten by  _ you _ . I was scared that I was gonna get eaten by an alien that looked  _ like _ you.”

“Why are you so obsessed with this alien rumor?” Minho leaned back as the continual singing of the E.T. babies melted his brain ever so slowly. “If aliens exist, I don’t think they would waste their superior technology on coming down to Earth to eat people.”

Jisung huffed. “I’m not obsessed, just being cautious. If anyone else disappears and turns up all chewed up, we’re moving, though.”

“We.”

“Yeah. We’re boyfriends, aren’t we?”

“But we don’t live together.”

“We could, though.”

“Aha.” Minho was flashing back to waking up alone and freezing that morning, imagining Jisung’s body heat against him. “I guess I wouldn’t hate that. You’re messy, though, aren’t you?”

“We’re on our first date. Let’s save that conversation for later.”

“How about we get off the ride then?”

Jisung held Minho’s hand tighter. “No. We’re having a moment.” Minho made a noise, not really in exasperation, but definitely not a happy one. Jisung smiled again; this time, Minho caught it and felt some organ, maybe his liver, tear open and begin to gush everything out. Their gazes were meeting. “So.” Jisung licked his lips. “I told you I’ve never been with a dude.”

“Twice now.”

“I don’t know how good at this I’ll be. Good at knowing what to do, I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then scratched at his jawline as if he weren’t clean-shaven. It was nerves, Minho realized, but weirdly, that didn’t give him any pride. Now his kidneys were failing too. “I’ve had  _ lots _ of sex, don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

“Like  _ tons _ of sex like obviously everyone wants to fuck me, right?”

“Okay.”

“I smash every night is what I’m saying, but I wasn’t sure where my dick goes with you. I-I mean not you specifically, but well- We’re dating, I can admit it, I was thinking of you.” Minho was pretty sure he was getting a fever -- typical response to organ failure. “So I thought maybe just your mouth, which would be cool. Sorry, uh- Is this too much?”

“Continue.”

Jisung laughed, whole face beaming like the goddamn sun. “So, I thought I should, you know, look up gay porn.” Minho was genuinely finding it difficult to breath now; blood was rushing up his throat. Never in his life had he wished so terribly that there  _ was _ a man-eating alien on the loose. He glanced at the animatronics hopefully, but none came to his rescue. “Here, look, I can show you.” ‘You really don’t have to,’ Minho was crying internally, as Jisung let go of his hand and pulled out his phone from his pocket. On Safari, the porn site was still open, of course. “Look.”

Minho, trembling, took the phone being handed to him. “You really don’t-” By accident, he clicked the search bar. Jisung’s recent searches came up. “Ah,” Minho said, blood spilling into his lungs. “Cat boy.”

“Fuck. Wait, don’t look at that.”

Minho held the phone out of Jisung’s reach. “Cat ears. Big ass. Cat tail. Pretty boy. Skirt.”

Jisung was screaming once again, waving his arms everywhere before smacking one into Minho’s wrist. It made Minho lose his grip, and they both watched as the phone tumbled down, down, down onto the floor all those feet below the ride. There was a shatter. Jisung’s mouth was open, but he was frozen, like a statue. 

“I’m sorry.” Minho wished he weren’t fucking giggling, but he couldn’t contain it behind a hand. “I’m so sorry.” Jisung was still frozen. “I’ll pay for it getting fixed.”

“Please.” Jisung croaked it, but Minho could see that it wasn’t enough.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Jisung collapsed back against the bicycle seat, staring off like a corpse. “Leave me to die here.”

“I’ll suck your dick.”

Jisung swung right back up into a seating position, eyes wide, but no longer in a horrified way. “For real?”

Minho’s face flushed some, not having expected the sparkle of excitement in his boyfriend’s eyes. “Um. Yeah.”

“Great!” Jisung wiggled out from the bars meant to keep him in the seat, started undoing the button and zipper in the pants of his uniform. “Wait, I’m not hard yet. Can you talk sexy real quick-”

“You want me to suck your dick  _ now _ ?” Minho was spluttering, choking. “H-Here?”

Jisung blinked, looked around, then back at Minho, a bit dumbly. “Yeah? You said.”

“I meant later.”

“Oh.” Jisung’s face went firetruck red, and he laughed nervously. “Fuck. Sorry. I can wait- We can go to my place or yours-”

But the disappointment in Jisung’s face, that he was trying to hide by looking away, made Minho frown. Honestly, this wouldn’t be the weirdest place he’s ever had sex. And honestly, the vague outline he saw of Jisung’s dick as he nearly pulled it out was calling his name. Hm. There was much to consider, much to worry about. Eventually, Minho decided there was no harm in doing something dumb as long as it was funny. “Wait.”

Jisung looked up, still somewhat hiding the blush on his cheeks -- cheeks that Minho was tempted to take a bite out of -- that had made its way to the tips of his ears. “Mm?”

Minho did the best he could to pull himself out from the bar on his lap before stepping onto the flooring between the bicycles. It took a deep breath, but he said, “I’ll do it here.”

“Really?”

“Hurry up.” Jisung managed to clumsily pull himself out of the seat, but still sat against it, just free from the bar now, as he rubbed his groin. Minho moved onto his knees swiftly, slapped Jisung’s hand away, then took over. He groped him through the fabric, skimming his nails against it to try to somehow feel the features of the other’s cock through it, before realizing he felt a little too much. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Two reasons.” Jisung looked a bit too smug. “One. I have a lot of sex, so I have to be ready to roll at all times.”

“Right.”

“Two. It’s, like, gay.”

“It’s gay to wear underwear.”

“Yeah.”

Jisung’s dick was hard enough. Minho gave it a squeeze that made his boyfriend shudder before he went to work undoing the buttons and unzipping. “Isn’t it also gay to ask your boyfriend for a blowjob?”

Minho refused to look at Jisung’s face but once again, he heard the smile. “I’ll have to ask the experts later.” Jisung’s cock was fine, not particularly big, but he was definitely a grower. Minho wasn’t sure why he spent a few moments staring at it, fingering the tip to see if it would twitch -- it did. He hadn’t imagined Jisung’s dick to look a certain way, but somehow this was not any expectation he had. “Why are you staring at it?” Minho tilted his head, noticing it had a curve. “Is it the biggest you’ve ever seen?” Stupid, stupid, stupid smug voice. “It’s okay, I get that a lot.”

“Sure.” Minho put his entire hand over the tip and let his palm rub against the head, amused by both the wetness smearing over his hand and Jisung’s hitched breaths. So much for being experienced. “I’d let you fuck my ass, but unless you have lube, we’re-”

“Don’t worry, I did market research.” Jisung started pulling it out of the same pocket where the phone had come from; he had enormous pockets. “Look it’s travel-sized.” And piss yellow. “I told you: I’m always ready to roll.”

Minho really wished he had considered the implications of dating Jisung earlier. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. He licked lines up either side of the cock he took a light grip of, then under it until he was flicking his tongue around the head and swirling it around. Jisung was mumbling the cringiest possible combinations of “yes, baby”, “just like that,” “good boy,” and related things. The worst part was that Minho didn’t hate it, or he did, but he hated it so much it went all the way back around to enjoyment. He had no trouble taking the entirety of it in his mouth and bobbing his head as Jisung grunted, took a weak fistful of Minho’s hair. 

Minho realized he could still smell the pine of the ride. And hear the singing of the robots.

He coughed, surprisingly, when he pulled off, and blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He sniffed, then smacking his lips together to become horribly aware of the precum and spit on his mouth. “God, you look so fucking hot like that.” Ew. Minho looked up to see Jisung already looking entirely fucked out -- flushed red, sweat gleaming on every inch of tanned skin, chest rising and falling with quick pants. A brainless, shit-eating grin. “I know you just sucked my dick, but I want to kiss you.”

“Ew,” Minho said aloud this time, but moved up even as his knees stung from digging into the rough flooring. He took Jisung’s neck, pulled him over, smashed their mouths together. Jisung tasted of his sugary disaster of a drink earlier, and like his burger, and like everything that Minho didn’t like, but his lips moved hungrily against his anyway. Jisung was palming Minho's own raging hardon constrained to his tightening pants. Minho was growing delirious from the combination of weird tastes and the fucking pine invading his nose. Their tongues were in each other’s mouths now, and Minho knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but he was smiling and getting high off every word Jisung said.

Ugh. 

Minho forced Jisung’s head back, forced him to stop the kiss, by grabbing him by the hair peeking out from under his beanie. “Fuck me.”

Jisung was quiet for a second, eyes flickering from Minho’s wet lips, to his pants, then back up. “Are you sure you’re not an alien?”

“Oh my god, just fuck me.”

Within a few seconds, Minho’s pants, along with his underwear because he was gay, were pooled at his ankles, and he was bent over one of the bikes. It was terrible; he was being forced to make eye contact not only with the still singing animatronics, but with the basket carrying E.T. right in front of Jisung’s seat. He shut his eyes and curved his back some, once again reconsidering his life choices, before Jisung’s slicked finger pressed inside. 

“Oh you’re not that tight.”

“Yeah, hurry up.”

“Okay here’s two.” That was fine, but then Jisung scissored them and Minho flinched. The burn and stretch wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, but Jisung was obviously not the best at being slow or gentle. Great! Minho almost laughed, hanging his head and gripping the bicycle bars he was using as support to get fucked against. This was embarrassing, humiliating. But Jisung’s free hand was stroking his cock and making him forget it. “Is that good? Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Minho breathed. “You’re taking forever, just- Just fuck me already.”

“You want daddy to pound you, baby?”

Minho burst out laughing, so loud he couldn’t hear Jisung’s embarrassed whining, but it was enough to relax him against Jisung’s fingers. He inched forward a bit, so he could rest his face against the handles too, and when Jisung’s lubed, condom-ed cock pressed in, he bit his lip and said, quietly, “You better not stop jacking me off.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung said, and unfortunately, that sent a shock down to Minho’s cock that made his knees bend inward a bit. 

He kept his promise, with each rock of his hips forward, Jisung dragged his hand against Minho’s dick. He wasn’t very good or gentle at this either, but Minho was fine with rough. His eyes fluttered shut as he took in every pump and thrust into him with quiet moans. He leaned into the kisses Jisung peppered into the back of his neck, and even once he encouraged him to go a little faster. He figured he’d deal with Jisung’s inflated ego later. At the moment, he craned his head to the side, so Jisung could at least reach a kiss to his cheek.

The bites at his ear lobe nearly made him laugh, but those laughs quickly turned into stifled gasps and drawn-out moans that made the both of them shudder. Jisung picked up the pace, and Minho bit a fist to keep quiet, though Jisung was, as usual, loud. He threw his head back, moaned much louder than Minho, and even gave his ass a light slap. Only because Minho was on the verge of cumming, he allowed it. Jisung finished, but he stayed inside as he tried to catch his breath and reached under with both hands to put all his attention on stroking Minho. 

It only took a few seconds, and once Jisung’s fingers were coated in white, Minho turned around exhaustedly. He pulled him in for another kiss. This one wasn’t as fiery as the first, but it was deeper, gentler. Jisung said, “Baby, that was good,” and baby this and baby that. Minho knew he shouldn't like it. He shouldn’t like Jisung at all, but he did. He was enamoured, and he was going to take him home, introduce him to his cats, and get to wake up in the mornings with a handsome face to pepper kisses all over only inches away.

The lights turned on. They both jumped away. Jeongin was standing not far, on one of the platforms meant for employees to have easy access to the suspended bicycles. His face was twisted in horror. The lights turned off again.


End file.
